Another Name For A Rose
by ValerieStone
Summary: My name is Stiles Stilinski, and I'm cursed. The vines keep growing and I'm scared, but the vines aren't my only issue any more, creatures are after me. Wolves and beasts that are supposed to exist only in fairy tales - then again, aren't curses tales to scare children? A Grimm-twist to our beloved Teenwolf world, Fem! Stiles.
1. Chapter 1

_**I'm trying my hand at another story, this one has been bouncing around in my head for a while, if you guys like it I'll continue it. Hope you enjoy it! **_

Every good story has to have a curse in it, that's just the way of the world, its what makes good literature. And I wish I could say that my curse was something extraordinary, something that told the world that I was a person about to do something great. But in reality, this curse was nothing more than a mystery. The only real reason I figured that I was cursed was because, who else had a literal rose vine growing out of them? The vine starts at my right ankle, on the inside. And it slowly makes its way up, if a person sees it at a glance they would think I spent a small fortune on it, but if they got closer they would see that it wasn't a tattoo. Not that I would ever let anyone see it. The vine is thick, on my skin it looks like any other tattoo, but it doesn't just stay on my skin. From my shin to my knee the vine escapes the confines of my skin, and wraps tightly around my leg, not unlike a thorned snake, into my flesh and travel farther up. It hugs my body, escaping at uneven intervals, and diving back seamlessly. This vine, this curse, it grows with me. As I age, blooms come, so far there are sixteen roses, all in different stages of blooming. The vine has almost reached my left shoulder, and I'm scared that it will go to my head. Only it wont be the tattoo impersonation, it will be the actual vine. And then people will begin to notice, and when they notice, I know I will be done for. Its the twenty first century, there is no such thing as magic, everything can be explained through science and medicine, be it a genetic mutation or otherwise. But I know this cant be explained, I've done my research.

And it's not that I'm not happy where I am, because I am, I just…I don't know how to explain it. Anyway, it's not like anyone will be reading this, and if you are, I'm either where I belong or in a looney bin or still lost. But hey, you might figure this out for me…so here it goes.

My name is Stiles, I live in Beacon Hill's California and my best friend is dating a girl who's grandfather tried to kill me. Oh, and my best friend is a werewolf and his girlfriend comes from a long line of hunters. Isn't that just dandy? My friend, Scott, doesn't know about my curse, but that's probably because I've only ever worn pants around him, and he's not exactly seen me change clothing, considering I'm a girl and that's a big no-no. And yes, I know Stile's is a weird name for a girl, but hey, I'm a curse person living in a town of werewolves in the twenty-first century, don't judge.

Anyway, today has gone like any other….

"Stiles, time to get ready." My dad calls from down the stairs, his voice is harder to hear than usual. More than likely he was putting a jacket on and was facing away.

"I'm up." I yell in response, because I am, like always. It's rare for me to sleep in, to sleep in general. But he doesn't know that, and like any good dad he tries to make sure I'm not late for school, as he walks out the door.

My dad is the Sheriff, and he's damn good at his job. But because of it I don't get to see him as often as I'd like, but that's ok too. Because it's gotten awkward between us, my dad doesn't know about my curse, or at least I don't think he does. He's never mentioned it, and he doesn't ask why I wear baggy jeans and long sleeves all the time, even when its roasting outside. So maybe he does know, but I'm not going to ask him, that would just be weird. "Hey dad, do you know why I have a curse of thorns and roses? Did you and mom happen to steal me by any chance? Do I have any magical powers or a fairy god mother?" Yea, like that would blow over well. I'm going to do the un-Stiles thing and keep my mouth closed this time. Better for both of us.

I look into the mirror, and I sigh, the girly part of me does want to be dressed up. To show my curves, what little I have, to at least make one guy's head turn at school and not because I'm running my mouth a mile a minute.

I shake my head to clear all the unwanted thoughts and smile, at least I look like my mom when I smile. With that, I get to work, dressing for the day. Off with my too big sweat pants, and on comes official army pants, desert camo. I have to be careful of the vines on my shin, they love to catch and make small holes in my clothes, so the baggier the better. My cookie monster t-shirt is slipped off and on comes the sports bra, then a tank-top, then a black t-shirt. Over the t-shirt comes a recent present, courtesy of my dad an Avengers Letterman jacket, my favorite red one was lost in a recent scuffle with a few werewolves, not that I told my dad that. So he bought me another jacket, to make up for it, and maybe to say that he was sorry he's been working all the time. Either way it was sweet of him.

Colorful socks came next, then Dr Who themed converse, and I was complete. I did another check in the mirror, just to make sure nothing was showing, and let out a small sigh. Soon I would have to begin to wear something to cover my neck, maybe I should look into scarves, because I really didn't want to buy turtle-necks, I hated them with a passion. My hair was short and curly, a dirty blond-brown with a touch of red. I honestly have no idea what you would call it, a dirty strawberry? Ew, no thanks.

I glanced at my ever present watch on my wrist and smiled, I was still ok on time. Not great, but I've made it with seconds to spare before. Grabbing my backpack by my bedroom door, I clomped down the stairs, knowing that dad would be rolling his eyes if he were still home. I tended to make more noise in the morning, than an average house of five, or so he says.

Into the kitchen, and with an pear in my mouth, I double check the fridge, to see if he left me a note. And lo-and-behold there was one. It was the usual, 'I'm going to work late tonight, you're free to have Scott over. And we are low on ginger ale.' I pull it off the fridge, stuff it into one of my many pockets and munch on my pear. Wiping the excess juice from my mouth, I glance at the kitchen clock, time to go. Grabbing the keys from the countertop, I turn off the lights and make sure everything is locked up tight. Then I double check to make sure dad hasn't found my wolf repellant bags under the table by the door, nope, good thing too. I had monkswood stashed all around the house, I had one too many unexpected visitors and I wasn't going to be surprised again. IF they wanted in, they would have a nasty allergic reaction. Only down side was if I wanted Scott to come home with me, I had to move the monkswood around so it would affect him. Then again, he's been so wrapped up with Allison lately, it didn't matter.

Not that I'm bitter or anything, nope, not me. Locking the front door, I quickly make my way to my beloved Jeep. Toss my bag in and start the engine, a pouch of monkswood swung from my review mirror merrily. I didn't want any furry surprises in my jeep either, so sue me. I turned on the radio, only to groan when the people began talking, I swear, they talk more than me! And they get paid for it! That's just not fair, I hit the CD button and waited a few moments, praying that it decided to work for me, and thankfully it did. Though it decided to skip the into GaGa's Bad Romance, but that was ok with me. Anything was better than listening to those people talk like they understood teenagers, I don't even understand teenagers and I am one!

The drive to school was pleasantly uneventful, I parked, walked in, and even went through a few of my classes without anything happening. It was a miracle! But of course, my miracles had strings attached, because right before lunch I was called into the principal's office. And for once I honestly didn't do anything, my grades were good, I hadn't back talked to any of the teachers and I didn't have any tardies. So he probably wanted to see if I knew anything about Scott and the furry problem invading Beacon Hills…wonderful.

"Yes," I asked as I entered, hands deep in my pockets.

"Ah, Stiles, thanks for coming so quickly. I just have a few questions to ask you, then you're free to go, please, close the door and get comfortable." Principal Argent said, he leaned back in his chair and did the thing with his hands, the, I'm an innocent old man-principal steeple under the chin move.

I closed the door, but didn't let it latch, one less obstacle if I had to run. I sat on the edge of a chair, and for once I didn't have to act like a confused innocent student, because I had no idea why he wanted me in there.

"I….I wanted to ask you some personal questions."

I looked at him, he didn't seem to be in a bad mood, but his sentence put me on edge. "What do you mean?"

"Can you tell me anything about your mother?" He asked softly, one eyebrow raising.

I tensed, ice started to pool in my stomach, I never talked about my mother. Not with Scott, not with Dad and not even with God. Mom was off limits. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Oh, but I think there is." He paused and leaned forward, evaluating me. "You see, Stiles, it has come to my attention that your dad is a very busy man, being the Sheriff and all and you are still a minor."

"I'm sixteen," I counter, not liking where this was going.

"Still a minor" He didn't seem upset by my outburst. "And as a principal and a grandfather I must admit I am worried that he isn't able to be home as often as he should…"

"Wait right there," I snarl and stand, "I honestly don't know where you are coming from but listen now and listen closely. My father is the Sheriff but he is my dad first and foremost. He is home as often as needed and he is only a call away. You have no right to threaten me, or my dad with CPS, and if you continue to try to play the 'I'm an innocent old man' speal I will make sure you lose."

Gerard leaned back and watched me, his eyes calculating, a smirk on his features. "I'm only saying,"

"I don't give a damn, sir, and I know my rights as a minor. And within California, unless you have evidence to show otherwise, non-disputable evidence, you have no claim against my father. As regulation in Child Domestic Cases, Class Seven-Eight-Three.*"

"You seem to know your law."

"My dad is the sheriff, of course I know it." I grab my bag and make my way to the door, "Good day, Gerard." And I leave.

Damn, I know that will be back to bite me in the butt, but it sure felt good.

Lacrosse practice, well, for Scott, I wasn't on the team, I could petition to be on the team and I'd win, equal opportunity and all that, but with my curse, I didn't want the hassle of making up an excuse to wear pants during a game. Or a team sweatshirt during games and every practice, so I just stayed to support my best friend of sixteen years. Who, was on the field, and doing pretty well, it seems that our 'control-your-inner-wolf' training had come in handy. I needed to thank the writers of Star Wars, who knew Yoda actually knew what he was talking about when he was training Luke?

So far I didn't have any negative repercussions for talking to the principal and wolf killer like that, but I hadn't let my guard down. The coach called for a break in play, and began yelling at them, the only one he didn't yell at was Danny. Sweet, sweet Danny, if only he weren't gay. But isn't that every girl's issue, a cute boy who is kind to everyone and doesn't care what you look like, just who you are is almost always gay, or already has a beautiful girlfriend and doesn't know that you exist. At least Danny knows that I exist, then again it's kind of hard for him not to, I sit next to him in Biology, ever since Scott traded to be next to Alison.

The coach finished yelling and a few boys went to run laps as punishment for missing the ball, or dropping the ball, or something. They did something to tick off coach, not that it took much anymore. The rest went to hit the showers, well, the majority. Danny stretched and smiled up at me, motioning for me to climb down from my perch on the bleachers. I did so, carefully, I hated the metal things, always feels like I'm either going to slide off or they're about to break underneath me. Thankfully I made it down without embarrassing myself, I spoke to soon. Last step and my foot catches on the metal lip, thankfully Danny catches me.

"Whoa there," He smiles, and steadies me.

"Thanks," I mumble, eyes shifting to the side. For some reason Danny makes me antsy, maybe its because he's so nice to me, and not many people are. They usually just put up with me, but he is genuinely nice.

"You're always at practice, rooting on Scott," Danny says, surprising me, I thought no one noticed me in my little perch on the top of the bleachers. "Do you want to learn how to play?"

That even surprises me more. I look at Danny warily, wondering if he was joking, but his face didn't have any signs of joking and his eyes seemed pretty serious.

"I guess so." I said, mentally I wanted to whoop for joy. I've only ever tossed the ball around with Scott, this would be the first time I went onto the field, and Danny being one of the best goalies our school's ever had, I was one lucky girl.

"Cool, come on then."

He led me to the spare equipment, sized me up with a quick look of the eyes and handed me a stick, and a helmet. I looked at it questioningly.

"Better safe than sorry Stiles," He said with a smile.

I grinned back and put it on, "Ewww," I couldn't help but whine. The helmet smelled, like, well a helmet. Danny laughed and shook his head before leading me out onto the field, ignoring the questioning looks of those still running laps. Coach hadn't called us out yet, so I guessed that we were ok.

"So, show me what you can do." Danny commanded, his eyes twinkling as he stood before the goal.

"Ok…" I murmured, feeling silly. But I cradled the sick like I've seen the players do, and started to pounce on my feet. Thankful that it hadn't rained in a while, and my Dr. Who shoes weren't going to get mud on them, I paid good money for them, so I wasn't going to let them get dirty any time soon.

"Good stance, ok, try to get it past me. I'll go easy on you." Danny said, before putting on his helmet, he knew from past experience that my aim wasn't spot on. And thankfully Danny was still wearing his padding, I prayed I didn't accidently hit anything vital.

I hopped on my feet for a minute more, closed my eyes and imagined having three opponents charging towards me, with wolf yellow eyes. The ball was monkswood, the last of its kind, and I needed to get it in the goal to save the human race. Eyes open, I charged. I swerved this way and that, and before I knew it I was flinging the ball into the goal, and, and it hit! Danny looked at me, then back at the ball, amazed.

"Stiles…" He said, his voice colored in surprise, "That was Awesome" He yelled, running towards me. Danny is a hugger, and a great one at that. He lifted me into the air and twirled me around for a second, I laughed.

"I couldn't even see the ball! You were wicked fast." Danny gushed, still holding me.

"You're just saying that," I murmured, thankful that the helmet was hiding my blush.

Before Danny was able to say anything more coach came roaring up.

"Stilinski!" He yelled.

I admit, I did a very girly thing, I squeaked and hopped behind Danny in surprise. Yelling 'I didn't do it," out of reflex.

"I saw what you just did on the field, and I can't believe it. I never thought you could move so fast." He exclaimed, having his hands and the clipboard that always seemed to be in one, around as he talked. "You have to try out for the team, with two of our players out due to grades and one with a bad ankle, we barely meet the team quota!"

I peeked behind Danny as coach ranted, the last part of his sentence took me by surprise, to where I nearly toppled over.

"What?!" I cried, looking at coach, taking off my helmet and rubbing my ears to make sure I didn't have anything in them.

"You heard me," Coach said, no longer yelling.

I turned my head and looked at Danny, he was grinning, like he knew the coach would want me on the team….

"You set me up!" I cried, pointing my finger at Danny.

"Yep," He agreed smiling at me.

I narrowed my eyes, "How'd you figure I could play?"

"I saw you throwing balls at Scott."

"Oh,"

"What do you say?" Coach asked, looking at me.

"I have two requirements,"

"Anything"

"I want to wear long sleeves and pants during games and practices and I want you to stop showing those old movies in Economics class."

Danny covered his laugh, coach looked at me, trying to see if I was serious or not.

"Pants and sleeves I can do, movies are school regulated."

"Deal."

And that was how I ended up on the lacrosse team.

Which is how I ended up on a bus, full of sweaty teenage boys, headed to a school three hours away, did I mention I was the only girl? Scott seemed to be conflicted, he liked the fact that I was on the team, but he didn't seemed too thrilled with the fact that I didn't make the team in the conventional way. Currently Scott was moping and looking out the window, he and Alison were having another lovers quarrel. I had my headphones in, listening to Pentatonix, an accapella group.

Jackson, the team's original captain turned co-captain, was glaring at me, he was positive I had wiggled my way onto the team through some unconventional method. As if. Danny was ignoring his best friend's brooding and was chatting with fellow players, with a heavy sigh I let my head flop backwards. I was already regretting agreeing to this, at least it gave me some positive attention at school, apparently a lot of people thought I was a pioneer for women's rights or something, because I was on the lacrosse team now. People were nodding to me and telling me 'way to go' and 'finally, a girl on the team', it was slightly startling. But in a good way.

"Ok, listen up!" Coach yelled, standing and holding onto a seat back to keep his balance, "This is the lineup for tonight. McCall, Jackson, Danny…" I zoned out, figuring that I would be a seat warmer for this game, considering I had only participated in two practices, "Stilinski."

"What?" My cry echoed Jackson's.

"She's a good player, well rounded, she can defend and she's ruthless when she's on offense, deal with it." Coach grumbled, pointing his clipboard towards Jackson in a threatening manner.

"But Coach," Jackson tried to plead his case without sounding like a whiny brat. As if he could sound like anything else.

"Deal," Coach yelled, then blew his whistle for good measure.

Scott and Jackson had a staring contest, I slunk down in the seat, crossed my arms and prayed I knew what I was doing.

As it were, I did know what I was doing, partially. I was able to get a few goals, got slammed more times than I would care to count, and I'm very thankful I'm not one to cry. For a rather large, defender from the other team set his sights on me, and it seemed as if every other play I Was getting smashed. Coach kept yelling for Jackson, Peterson or someone, anyone to block for me. A small part of me wondered if Jackson was leaving me open on purpose, to see if he could get rid of me without looking like an ass. Not that he didn't look like an ass normally.

Thankfully we won, but it was a close win, and coach started in on us right when we got onto the bus and were headed back.

"What the hell was that?" He yelled, practically spitting mad. Coach waved his clipboard around and pointed to players who he believed did the worst, he did take a moment to complement Danny on some terrific saves, then continued his rant. "Jackson, where the hell were you?"

"Coach?" Jackson attempted to sound innocent.

"I told you to block for Stilinski, she kept getting slammed out there! She could have made us more points if you were where I told you to be!"

"But coach, I – "

"Next practice, I expect you to run drills until I tell you to stop." Coach all but snarled at Jackson, I thought he would have made a rather nice wolf just then. All he needed were the yellow eyes and fangs and he'd be set, he already looked rabid.

Jackson deflated and nodded his head in submission. But for the remaining bus ride, he gave me dirty looks, and I knew I wasn't going to hear the end of it. It would just be out of Coach's hearing range.

Once the ride was over, and the bus hissed to a stop, the boys filed out. I stood with a groan, everything ached, and not in a good-workout way, in a I'm-going-to-be-blue-tomorrow way. I stretched before grabbing my bag and I had to bite back another groan, I was already regretting this. Headphones firmly in place, phone in hand, bag over shoulder, I trekked through the bus and down the stairs. Sighing when I realized I was not only the last one off the bus, but the only one in the parking lot. Scott had already taken off on his bike, what a wonderful best friend he was. I plugged my headphones into my phone and called my dad as I walked to my jeep. Even if I got an answering service, it was better to have it look like I was talking to someone, then seeming like a perfect target. Sue me if I've watched one too many abduction movies.

"Hey dad," I began, happy that he actually answered.

"Where are you?" He asked, sounding tired. Background noise told me he was still at work.

"I just got off the bus,"

"Bus? What bus? Stiles, where did you go?" He sounded panicked.

"Dad, chill. I told you I made the lacrosse team, and we had an away game today. I told you and left a note on the fridge and even called and told the front desk. I didn't run away, or anything like that."

"Oh…" he let out a long breath then laughed awkwardly.

"You need to sleep, when are you planning on coming home?"

"I'll probably crash on the couch in my office. It's been crazy here."

"That'll make it the fourth time this week," I begin, trying to hide the whine from my voice.

"Stiles," He let out another long sigh.

I could imagine him rubbing his face tiredly and looking at the top of his desk with weary eyes.

"No, no, it's ok, I know you're busy." I said, trying to sound chipper. "Keep in touch, I'll be home if you need me. Love ya," I hung up before he could say anything else. At least I was already at my lovely jeep and could toss the phone inside without worrying. It's not like Scott would call me, and dad wouldn't know how to deal with my 'girly issues' and he wouldn't call, and when he would finally come home, he'd act like nothing had happened. My dad is nothing if not predictable.

I got my Jeep rolling out of the lot and onto the road without any issues, my bruises had bruises, and I'm pretty sure a few thorns were pricking my skin. You'd think the parts of the vines that were raised from my skin, wouldn't hurt if they poked me. You'd be wrong, they sting. Red light, I fiddled with my radio, hoping to find something good on. I like GaGa don't get me wrong, but I could only handle so much before I wanted to toss the CD out the window.

A flash of something danced across my peripheral, I jumped then winced. Squinting, I peered out my windshield, wondering if I had been smashed one too many times tonight and was starting to see things. I chuckled to myself and started forward when the light turned green. Then my jeep was side-swiped.

My body was forced to the left, the engine of the other vehicle was hungrily biting at my jeep's door, wanting in, kind of like the big bad wolf. My seatbelt held me in place, the jeep spun around sickeningly, kind of like an evil merry-go-round. My head snapped to the side, eyes were too scared to close, when the jeep finally came to a stop I was frozen. A door slammed shut, and heavy footsteps could be heard, whoever smashed into me was coming closer, and they didn't sound like a worried or panicking bystander. The gait was too even, I honestly don't know how I was able to take note of this, while my head pounded with an intensity that would rival Harry Potter's when Voldy was coming closer. The footsteps stopped, painfully I turned my head to the left and let out the girliest scream I had ever let loose, and it would have made a slasher film victim cringe in shame.

The man wasn't so much a man as flesh, sown together. Some flesh was swollen and raised angrily, his lips seemed to be pasted on, his top lip was barely there, bottom looked as if it had been injected with saline. His mouth twisted into a smile, showing a set of teeth that seemed to be made of only molars.

"Found you." He grunted, his voice seemed to be a mixture of pubescent and old man, a shivering combination.

I stopped screaming, and opted for scrambling for the seatbelt to get away. Bruises be damned, I had to get away.

"Tsk, no running away, Treasure."

I saved my breath, and finally was able to release the mangled seatbelt. But that was as far as I was able to go, for a second later the….man(?) pulled the door off my hinges. It was as if it had wires attached and the metal was really perfectly sculpted foam from a prop room. I scramble for my phone, fingertips straining to touch the smooth plastic, only to be grabbed by the waist. I was heaved from the car as if my 180lb body weighed twenty pounds, and I wasn't going easy. I was doing everything they teach you in school, I kicked, screamed, wiggled, screamed some more. His fingers were sausages, they felt like cool wax against my skin, my wiggling seemed to annoy him more than anything.

"Quiet, Treasure, you'll wake the trees." He grunted, then heaved me over his shoulder, my hands and legs beat uselessly against his trunk-like frame.

He spun around, my head bounced against the door-less door frame of my jeep. Little black and white spots happily danced around my eyes, the fight left me as I fought to stay conscious. Before I gave into the dark, I saw trees weaving together, but there was no wind.

_**So? Want me to continue? To just stop, go back to my other story and forget this one? Please review and tell me, all reviews make me happy! Until next time, Adieu! **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Needless to say I am thrilled by all the positive feedback I am receiving for this piece! I hope you guys enjoy this next part and keep the love coming! Oh and I forgot to put a disclaimer in the first chapter...if I owned this I would not be living on a farm, enough said. **_

When I came to, I was upside down, still being carried by the man-creature. For a second I imagined this was how Fiona must have felt when she was carried by Shrek, but at least she knew what Shrek was, and Donkey was good comic relief. I only had a splitting headache and no magical talking animal. I attempted to lift my head, to see where I was, but it only caused the headache to spike, so I stayed limp.

All the trees around us rustled, whispering to one anther their branches seemed to show their agitation, then again, I hit my head rather hard. I might be cursed, but trees aren't conscious beings. At least, I don't think they are….ugh, my head. My stomach ached, back itched and this position was about to make me either puke or pass out once more. Before my body decided what to do, my ride stopped abruptly.

"Bad wolves," he muttered, and started to walk faster. His steps were larger, causing me to slam into him, and he smelled as bad as he looked.

I was unable to stifle a moan, and I attempted to stretch my back, only to be dropped to the ground. I let out a shriek, my head hit the patchy grass covered ground and I couldn't think for good few seconds. When I was able to come back from my pain induced haze, I saw my captor in a standoff against two wolves, that's right wolves. They weren't Twilight sized, but they were large, from the looks of their markings they were timber wolves, but that didn't make any sense, there shouldn't be any timber wolves in California. At least, not that I could remember reading, then again, my brain was so jumbled right now….

"Mine," The man-creature said, I think I'll dub him Big'in for namesake.

Both wolves bared their teeth in response. I was beginning to think that they were fighting over me. Carefully I decided to do the smart thing and inch back. If I could get away, get to a town, to a phone, so I could call for dad and for help. I'd be ok. But I had to get away.

Keeping my eyes on the three creatures, I scooted on my hind-end, and hoped my head wouldn't make me lose what little balance I had, and I hoped that my movements wouldn't cause the three wanna be western actors to notice me. Only down side to my plan was, I didn't really look behind me, and I ended up scooting into the legs of someone. I literally gulped, like, if I was in a quiet room you would have been able to hear it perfectly. Carefully I looked up, and for a millisecond I wanted to relax, it was a person, a guy, a human, someone my age. He bent down and put his fingers to his lips, eyeing the standoff warily. Carefully he offered me his hand, and I took it, glad to see that he didn't have any random patches of hair or scales or anything, and he didn't have a werewolf look to him, huh, maybe that's what those wolves were. That would make more sense, but I've never seen Scott transform completely before, maybe it was a born wolf thing…

My rambling thoughts were interrupted when I went vertical, and the world decided to spin around in an evil merry-go-round manner. Once I was up the guy was pulling me towards the trees, his hand firmly clamped around my wrist. My free hand alternated between flapping uselessly at my side, and holding my head as I stumbled after him. Sounds of fighting could be heard in our wake.

It was maybe ten or fifteen minutes later when he finally let go and I was able to gracefully, as a dying duck, flop to the ground and curl up. Knees to chest, head cradled, arms wrapped around knees, head alternating between being blessedly numb and being pounded on by little rock monster with their metal hammers of misery. The guy squatted a few feet away, knowing better than to get any closer. If he did, I think I'd either scream, or cry, or do a Stiles melt down, something I haven't done in a few years, but I was getting close to it.

"Are you ok?" He asked, his voice was soft, hesitant.

I knew better than to nod my head, but I knew if I opened my mouth I'd break down, so I gave the hand signal for 'so-so' and left it at that. And I can honestly say, I've never been more thankful for silence. Granted this silence was slightly awkward, and he seemed filled with uncertainty, and worry and a whole lot of other things, at least there was silence. I closed my eyes, head hurt far too much to think about anything, I let it wander. Then the reality of the situation set in, he was in an awful convenient location, and he seemed more concerned for the wolves than for the fact that there were wolves…did I just willingly hand myself over to another group of kidnappers….

My tired eyes popped open, adrenaline surged through me, and I stared at the boy before me, and my mind finally started processing what I was seeing. I knew this kid, the golden brown hair, chocolate eyes, lost, soulful expression on his face. He was the kid my dad went searching for a few years back, the kid's father was charged with abuse, then found dead, the kid was never found. Last name started with an L, we were in the same grade, but my talking scared him away. That and probably my cooties.

"Where have you been?" I asked softly, knowing that if he was a were-anything then I wouldn't be able to outrun him, so I wasn't going to try.

"What?" he asked, he swung his head around to look at me in surprise.

"You're from Beacon Hills, my grade, last name starts with an L, you disappeared in eighth grade." I stated simply, my heart beat faster, which in turn caused the rock monsters in my head to pound their hammers even faster in glee.

"I don't –"

"I'm the sheriff's daughter, I'm nosy, and I've always been one to remember those who think they aren't worth being remembered….Isaac." I nearly whispered the last part, knowing I was about to step on dangerous territory. But then again, I was already kidnapped by a Frankenstein wanna-be, and werewolves were fighting the wanna-be, so how much more trouble could I get into? At least for five minutes? I mean, really?

"That was – " He was cut off by the sound of two people approaching.

For a second or two I wanted to run, my body tensed and Isaac gave me a sidelong glance, worried that I would follow through. But before I did anything, the two people appeared. One was older than me by a good few years, he was handsome, had a rugged look to him, was maybe twenty three or twenty four. Behind him was a rather imposing fellow, he melted into the shadows due to his coloring, but his face was kind, even though his body language attempted to say differently.

"We need to get moving, another will be after it shortly." The older guy said, motioning towards me.

Wait, did he just….he just called me an it. Oh no, ok, I did have a meltdown then. I didn't stand up, knowing that I'd probably fall right back down due to my head, but I made sure I looked as scary as I could with my ass planted into the dirt.

"Hold it," I said, my voice clear and steady, colored with anger, "I am not going anywhere with you, unless you are taking me home. And I highly doubt that because I am pretty sure I would know if there were more than two werewolves in Beacon Hills. Also, How Dare You, I am not an It, I am a young woman who has just gone through a rather traumatic experience, having been side swiped, man handled by...the frankenstein wanna-be, knocked around, dropped. And now you ignore me, call me an IT and then stare at me as if I've grown another head. Well listen up buster, I don't care if you grow fangs, and have a moon fetish, I don't care if you have a tail, I am not going to go anywhere with you and that is final."

The three just stared at me for a few minutes, Isaac seemed torn between smiling and cringing, the boy behind the Rude-One, was biting his lip and looking between me and the apparent leader of their little pack. He seemed torn between anger and amusement, he went with a little bit of both.

"Don't you dare – " I started to say, only to gasp when I saw that Big'in was back, and he looked…kind of like a well-worn squeaky toy, chewed up.

Isaac's eyes went almost comically wide, while the other two finally turned around to see what was making us react to oddly. And, as I guessed, they were wolves alright. No human that I know of would be able to snarl and growl like they were…well…animals.

"That's my Treasure, Mine." Big'in snarled, and lurched towards me.

"The Hell I am," I wasn't able to stop my mouth from spitting that out.

Big'in seemed mildly surprised by my outburst, and he pointed a large finger at me and I couldn't help but shiver in revulsion. He was just nasty. And then things got really weird, and that's saying something. My curse itched, it never so much as caused me a twitch before, other than a hole in my favorite pair of jeans and made it impossible to wear a dress even if I wanted to. Then the vines came out, as in, from my clothing but they didn't, thankfully, rip my clothes, and it started to wrap around me tightly. Even the parts of the vine that were previously doing a tattoo impersonation, I probably did a great drowning fish impression while I stared at the vines for a few seconds before I began to tug at them. Unfortunately once my hands touched the vines they were captured, I could only imagine this was how flies felt in a glue trap.

But what terrified me was that the vines didn't stop at my shoulders, they crept up to my neck, and I screamed. This is what would wake me up at night, this was literally my nightmare, my living nightmare. Vines, covering me, suffocating me, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I didn't notice the tears fall as the vines covered my mouth, then my eyes and I hyperventilated myself into blissful unconsciousness.

Someone was beating at my bedroom door, they were pounding on it, as if they were trying to break it down. I murmured something and hoped that they would leave me be, but the pounding was incessant. And that was when I opened my eyes and realized that they, whoever they, were, weren't pounding on my door but on the vines. My curse had trapped me, in a way it had double crossed me. Why couldn't I have had one of those romantic ones, where I prick my finger and sleep for a while, or heck, I wouldn't even mind having Fiona's issue as long as I had a prince in the end. I just don't know, in all of the fairy tales I've read, what story this one would be. It had a rose, and a pointy thing, which covered the majority of the American Disney tales, and I'd rather not think about the Grimm Tales, I'd rather not die. Or lose a limb, I'm fond of my limbs, toes and all. My thoughts were brought back to the present abruptly with another slam against my green cage.

I didn't know if I should scream and try to wiggle to help them break me out, or hope the vines stayed strong. I guess in all honestly it depended on who was trying to get to me….I think I like it in here, it's cozy. The pounding stopped and muffled voices could be heard, and judging by their tone they weren't exactly happy about my state of dress. I strained my ears to hear what they were saying, and amazingly, the vines moved a smidge so I could hear a little easier.

"I told you to get her out of here," It Boy snarled, I could imagine him glaring at Isaac and running his hands through his thick brown black hair.

"I was worried about you, and she all but collapsed," Isaac attempted to explain.

I can easily imagine his puppy eyes, and could see the big, mean, testosterone filled werewolf relent slightly to those eyes. Those eyes were pretty potent, if I can remember correctly.

"How'd this even happen?" the other shadow member asked, Shadow, eehh, I needed to think of a different name, if this guy turned into a jerk I didn't want him associated with my favorite cat from Homeward Bound. And wolves shouldn't be named after cats, it simply wasn't done.

"I think the curse detected the threat, it had been dormant, and when it activated…." It Boy said, he sounded like he shrugged his shoulders.

"What now?" Isaac asked, his feet shuffled against the ground in a childlike manner.

"We take her to the witch doctor."

WHAT?!

"But how are we going to do that, the trees aren't happy with the mess we've caused and seem to have rooted her…" Blah Boy asked, hey it was better than Shadow, granted not by much. Don't judge.

I didn't know what to be more worried about, the witch doctor or the fact that they were talking about the trees as if the trees were conscious beings…and rooted….maybe that explained why I couldn't really wiggle around. What if I had an itch? I could feel it coming on..my nose. My nose was starting to itch and there was no way for me to scratch, and my scalp…."LET ME OUT!" I screamed. But the wolves didn't hear. Stupid curse.

Eventually they were able to figure out how to sooth the trees, whatever that meant, and they lifted me, vine cage if the sensation was anything to go by. Then I heard the distinct sound of a trunk being opened, oh no, they wouldn't dare – they did. They put me in the trunk of whatever it is that they drive, and from the sounds of it, it is a rather nice, fast car.

"_I told the witch doctor I fell in love with you…do do do do…..something something this is what he told me to do….I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts all standing in a row…_" I sang quietly to myself, mashing random songs together to pass the time. And trying to not hyperventilate into unconsciousness once more, I should probably gather what little sanity I had left so when the time came and when, and if the witch doctor could get me out of this thing, I could escape. But then I had a thought, something that had honestly never crossed my mind before. _Would my dad want me back? Would it be better if I stayed gone? _I mean, I was nothing but trouble. If I wasn't the sheriff's kid I would have been thrown in juvenile detention on more than one occasion, and if it weren't for me Scott would still be human.

Would he want me back? Ever since mom died, he always looked at me differently, as if he blamed me…._maybe her death had something to do with the curse_. My chest compressed painfully, I never thought of that, why hadn't I thought of that before. In all of the stories, in all of the tales I've read over the years there has always been a cause for a curse, what if my curse was the cause of her death? _Did I kill my mom? _I squeezed my eyes shut and gasped for breath, wishing for the use of my hands so I could hold them to my chest, to my stomach. It felt as if I was about to shatter, I could be over thinking this, it was a Stiles trait after all. But there was a high probability that I wasn't. The wolves should have left me to Big'in.

A soft knock woke me from my weary slumber, I opened my heavy eyes and saw that the vines had opened just a crack to reveal the outside world. Which looked a lot like a vet's office…and the guy in the white vet looking lab coat looked a lot like Scott's boss.

"Hey Sweetheart," yep, definitely Scott's boss, Deaton.

I blinked sluggishly at him, even with this revaluation, that he was the 'witch doctor' I wasn't willing to react, to uncurl from the huddle I was in deep in the recesses of my mind, just to give him a little smile. I was too tired.

Deaton seemed to sense that and his eyes crinkled in concern, but before he was able to say anything else to me his attention was averted elsewhere. And I was left to a rather bland view of his sweater clothed chest framed by the white lab coat.

"How long did the Golem have her?" Deaton asked his voice had changed from caring to business fast enough to give a girl whiplash.

"It's hard to say, the Trees weren't able to relay the message as quick as we could have hoped. They were three counties over by the time we were able to catch up," Came It Boy's terse response.

"We were unable to view the scene because hunters and humans were on the crash site, from the looks of it, she has put up quite a struggle." Blah said, sounding impressed by my cursed human prowess. I shortened his name, sue me.

"Yes, she is full of surprises. But do you know what could have caused…this?" Deaton asked, and I saw his hand motion towards me.

"She was crying," Isaac whispered.

This statement caused the tension in the room to sky rocket, and Deaton glanced at me once more before striding over to where Isaac was, or at least, I guessed.

"Are you sure she was crying?" Deaton asked, his voice calm, it was the same voice he used on me when he told me that my dog had died. Mom had held me close and I had cried and cried and cried, dad hadn't been able to handle me crying over the death of a beloved pet so we never did get another…not that we'd ever have time to take care of one now-a-days.

"Yea," Isaac said softly, if not softer than before.

I knew Deaton had put his hand to his head then rubbed his eyes, then the back of his head. Before looking around the room a few times, trying to gather his thoughts, having hung out with Scott at work so long meant I picked up on the habits of his boss. Man my head hurt. I let out a small sigh and closed my eyes, only to find that closing them was actually a challenge. That was a new one. I just let them be at half mast, not caring.

"Stiles, Stiles honey, please look at me." Deaton said, trying to get my attention.

"Why, what's the matter?" It Boy demanded.

"Stiles never cries, "

I cry…I thought back…to when my dog died, when I had sobbed into my mom's arms. But as I thought about it, I never had to wipe tears from my face…maybe….maybe I didn't cry…not in the liquid sense of the word.

"Your point,"

"My point," Deaton snapped, "is this:

_Kissed with a Rose at Birth a babe will bare _

_A cure or gift to share _

_Until such a time that all have bloomed _

_Not a tear shall be spent _

_Or death shall loom _

"Death shall loom? What?" Isaac asked, panic creaked into his words. "But why?"

"Because….we…"

I wasn't able to focus on the last of their conversation for I had remembered one other time I had shed a tear, though I don't remember what it was over, but a tear had landed on mom's hand. And that night she and dad had this huge argument. I killed my mom, with my tears.

**_Well...What did you guys think? Hope you liked the twist :) If you are like me and are getting buried under the snow hitting the East Coast, Stay safe and stay warm! And as always feel free to review and until next time, Adieu! _**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thank you all for your favorites and follows and love! Please review and tell me what you think! Hope you enjoy! **_

I didn't want out of my green prison, I wanted it to be my casket, no wonder my dad couldn't look at me the same way, and here I had been thinking I had been something special. Something precious that had been taken and cherished as some point, and now this; I was worse than….than….I don't even know what. The person who told girls that they all can't princesses, yea, that would work. I wanted to rage against the world, and scream why me, why did I have to be cursed with this….rose, why did I have to never shed a tear? Why did I kill my mom? Another part of me just wanted to die, to shut down, piece by piece, I had already taken the most precious thing from dad, it was clear he loved mom more than life itself, for he was nearly working himself to death. And in all honesty, who would miss me? Me, the ADHD screw up, sure, I had just scored a few lacrosse goals but I was replaceable, I wasn't anything special. I can see how laughable that is now. Instead of being stolen I was probably thrown out.

"Sweetheart," Deaton whispered, trying to get my attention, he flashed one of those damnable pen lights at me, I had grown to hate them.

After suffering a few concussions through many escapades with Scott in the summer and having doctors shine those in your eyes and say 'now follow the light' I was tempted to go the other way to spite them…

"Stiles," His voice now had a panicked tone; I honestly don't think I've ever heard him panicked before. And over the years, Scott and I have placed him in some pretty compromising situations. "Derek, you need to go, the hunters will be here soon, knowing that I will know something about the Golem. "

"What about –" It Boy turned Derek questioned about me, his voice was going fuzzy.

"Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do. And we cannot take her back to her father like this."

"I thought you said," Isaac murmured, stepping closer to me.

"I know," Deaton looked at me wearily, his eyes shone with something, remorse, contempt, forgiveness, I honestly didn't know. "But sometimes the supernatural world only hinders the classical world, its worth a shot."

"I don't like him, he's creepy as all get out," Isaac complained.

"I agree," Blah seconded.

"His rebirth means he is the closest being we have to a classical representation, I don't care if you don't like him." Deaton snapped, his concern for me vanished when he snapped his head around to glare at the other occupants of the room.

I closed my eyes, and wondered if the curse was from my ancestors, and what my ancestors would have had to do to be cursed with such an awful thing. Tears that could kill loved ones, the irony of it all. And this rose vine, I guess I wouldn't mind it being my tomb. I mean, something as bad as me shouldn't have such a pretty casket, but maybe there were small mercies in death. I wondered what would kill me first, dehydration, starvation, can a broken heart kill you? Or would the vines suffocate me, if anything I think I'd prefer to be suffocated, in the long run that would the most merciful way to go.

Unfortunately, as I should have guessed, nothing will go according to plan, even if that plan was to die in my vine casket. Something lightly tickled my nose, just enough of a touch to get my attention, damn it, death by an itchy nose, was that even possible? Wearily I opened my eyes, only to see that Deaton had been replaced with someone else, someone new, but who practically oozed old. Not that he was old, and not that he was young, it'd be impossible to guess his age, from anywhere between thirty to late fifties, his eyes said he had seen much more but his physical appearance said thirty to late fifties.

"Sorry about the feather, but I thought it was a nicer way to get your attention than knocking," he said twirling said feather around in his hand easily, "I figured you and fish are the same, don't knock on the glass, don't knock on the vines."

I didn't smile and he gave me an awkward smile, before rubbing the back of his neck.  
"We need to get moving, Deaton told me that you've known him since you were an ankle biter, so hopefully you'll take his world when he says we won't hurt you. But we need to get you out of here. Hunters are coming."

I narrowed my eyes at him for a few moments, something about him….I imagined him with a furry face and wolf ears and my eyes widened before I glared. And for a second I was back to normal.

"YOU!" If I could move my arms, I would have had The Finger, as Scott had dubbed it, having been behind it many times.

He seemed startled by my sudden near resurrection.

"You bit Scott!" I yelled, and started to wiggle, wishing that the vines would release me, and amazements never cease, for they did.

But they didn't disappear in a poof nor did they just go as if they were never there, there was a rustling, much like the rustling of leaves in the fall before they would reluctantly let go of their hold. And the vines reluctantly let go of one another and retracted, once again my clothing was left unscathed, but then I felt naked. I didn't have anything to protect me from this man, this wolf who all but destroyed Scott's life and would have gotten him killed on more than one occasion if it hadn't been for my quick thinking and anger management ideas. That and it felt good to throw a few balls at him, he had abandoned me for a pretty new face, who happened to be a freaking hunter, so what if I'm a little bitter.

Before we were able to do or say anything else, Deaton walked in and he seemed thankful to see me free from my vines, and using my accusatory finger against the stranger, but his amusement didn't reach his eyes.

"Stiles," Deaton said softy, knowing that if he yelled for my attention, I'd skitter out of there faster than they could say hop-scotch.

With my finger still pointed at the biter, I eyed Deaton, and offered him a soft smile. "Yes," I asked innocently.

"Will you please put the finger down, we don't have much time, and I have much to tell you."

"Other than the fact that I killed my mom?" I asked, not putting down my finger, "OR the fact that Mr. Furry over here bit Scott and then royally messed up our lives. I wouldn't put it past him to have been the cause behind the partial body."

The stranger flushed slightly but didn't look ashamed and Deaton seemed slightly conflicted. So he opted to begin at the beginning.

"You didn't kill your mom Stiles,"

"Bull, I heard your poem, something about my tears and death looming." I remarked, crossing my arms, after realizing that I was probably starting to look pretty ridiculous.

"Yes, that is true, but you didn't kill her." Mr. Bite said softly.

"But, you and the poem and the?!" I sputtered, knowing that he would understand my way of speaking.

"_Not a tear shall be spent _

_Or death shall loom _

But not the death of your loved one, the death to the person who has caused you enough pain to cry." Deaton clarified.

"What kills them?" I asked, then asked in a nearly inaudible voice, "what killed my mom?"

"The curse, it's hard to explain, and your mom is….well….that's even harder. I promise I will answer all of your questions, but for right now you need to go with Peter, he will keep you safe. With him you are invisible to any and all Golems."

"Golems?"

"The thing that attacked you and took you from your jeep," Deaton clarified then motioned towards Mr. Bite turned Peter. "Now, Peter won't try to bite you. His nephew will make sure to watch over you both but you have to be sure to stick close to Peter so that nothing supernatural can sense you until we can have everything figured out."

"What about my dad."

"Stiles, please, right now it's better for everyone involved if you stay MIA."

I swallowed and nodded knowing that Deaton was only trying to help, but a small nagging voice in the back of my mind wouldn't be silenced, Scott called it my Spidey Stiles Sense, Triple S for short. Something still didn't make sense, well, a lot of things didn't make sense, but I knew better than to go down that road. But, still, I didn't want to just blindly follow, I wasn't about to go against everything dad taught me, even if I knew Deaton, I mean, how well do you know a vet and your best friend turn werewolf's employer who seemed to know everything randomly anyway? And what was a classic? I mean I know what classic literature is, but I highly doubt Deaton is referring to a person, who has a nasty tendency to BITE as a book….unless it was a Harry Potter book that Hagrid wanted his students to have for class.

I honestly didn't know what to do, I know I can't outrun a freaking wolf or whatever Peter was, and then there were the other wolves nearby, and Deaton probably had my best intentions at heart but still. It just didn't seem right.

"Deaton," I glanced between him and Peter, clearly conflicted. "I –" My stomach twisted, and I knew what I was about to say wouldn't be looked at in high regard. "I need to go home,"

"Stiles," Deaton attempted to begin his long winded reasoning, but Peter raised his hand to silence him.

"Argents,"

"Stiles, please, go with Peter, we'll talk about it more later, but for now please." Deaton pleaded with me, but I still shook my head and waved my hands in front of me – as if I was trying to keep away flies and all other nasties.

Peter growled, "There isn't enough time, they will enter in a few minutes." He took four menacing steps towards me, and his eyes glowed a vivid near neon green.

"Peter," Deaton warned.

Peter ignored him, his eyes were the only things I could see, damn it all if it felt as if I were about to drown in those eyes. Before he was able to fully use his wolf voodoo on me, the Argents burst in, Mr. Argent was leading the group with his gun drawn. I spun around and really, really just wanted to go home, heck, I'd take the smelly bus fully of sweating boys full of testosterone and tension over this room. Anything was better.

Deaton placed himself between Peter, me and the new group. He seemed calm, but I could see the tiny tremble in his hands, and the near impossible twitch in his eye, Deaton was irritated, I would have made it easier on him if I had left with Peter. But I don't trust Peter, sue me.

"Deaton," Mr. Argent, said calmly, nodding his head in acknowledgment but not lowering his gun.

His eyes narrowed when he noticed me and Peter, I don't know who he was more annoyed at seeing, I know he wasn't too fond of me, then again the feeling was mutual. I kinda-sorta sabotaged his office when he was out of town the other week to get back for his wife trying to poison Scott with wolves bane in his freaking tea. A few booby-traps were nothing, heck, if it weren't for Scott begging me to let it go, all the Argents would be bald smurfs with blown car engines. He got off easy.

"Argent," Peter smiled, and bowed.

"What brings you here," Deaton asked, ignoring Peter, and the Argents decided to follow Deaton's example.

"We found evidence of a Golem attack," Mr. Argent said, he clenched is jaw and turned his gaze to me.

I was in my school outfit, but by now I know it was nasty, oh no, my shoes. I refused to look down, I knew that if I saw even a splatter of mud on the TARDIS then I would start to wail. These were hand painted, I wore them when I knew for a fact the weather would be nice out, and there wouldn't be a cloud in the sky, they were my pride and joy. I didn't care how bad my hair looked, and I didn't exactly take time to put on makeup, but more than likely I looked rough.

"It was your jeep, Stiles," Mr. Argent said, looking at me.

I just looked at him, and avoided looking at my feet. Seeing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with me, he lowered his gun just slightly, and talked to Deaton once more, still ignoring Peter.

"An attack on a human is clear violation of the treaty, "

"Not exactly," Deaton was quick to respond, "Golems are not of the supernatural realm, as you know, thus the treaty has not been broken."

Mr. Argent seemed disgruntled and his eyebrow literally twitched for a minute, before he settled his eyes on me once more. "Why was a Golem in Beacon Hills?"

"You know as well as I," Deaton began, but was cut off but Peter.

"No matter how much you attempt to ignore me, and how much you may abhor the fact that you are unable to kill me where I stand simply because I am breathing. We have more pressing matters to attend to." Peter spoke with a respectful voice, and it took me by surprise.

With the surprise came a realization, I was still no closer to getting home, Deaton knew about my curse, I was attacked by a Golem thing, Deaton knew heck of a lot more than he ever let on….which really isn't that surprising. The Argents seemed to hate Peter as much as I did, but I never believed in the whole, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, I still had a grudge against him. And there were more wolves in Beacon Hills….why didn't they make themselves known to Scott…or did they and he not tell me…but he tells me everything…or he's supposed to. I mean…gahh.

My head began to throb and I resisted the urge to press my hands against my temples, all the doctors I ever went to warned me that the pressure might help relieve the pain for a few minutes, but then the pain would come back, triple the force. I gritted my teeth and resisted, I really wanted my bed. Passing out didn't count as falling asleep, and I needed a shower, a normal school day was bad enough, add of a lacrosse game, abduction, running, panic, and who knows what else, I know I smelled. I needed a shower, and by Jove I was going to get one, and I was going to go home, going to go in my bed, in my soft poka-dotted pj bottoms and a sweatshirt and sleep for a week. Under a mountain of stuffed animals and pillows, maybe, hell, I might be under the bed, or in the closet, just to shake things up. It wouldn't be the first time, and most certainly wouldn't be the last.

"We need to put her somewhere safe, you know that this place is named literally." Mr. Argent argued with Deaton while Peter watched from the side lines and gave an odd glare smile at the other hunters, probably just to throw them off. It was working, they weren't sure wither to keep their weapons aimed or a diplomatic face on… poor bastards.

While they talked I decided to inch my way to the side door, thankfully having spent my free time here while Scott worked, which now that I think about it, I wonder why Deaton did that because I broke more things and scared more traumatized animals than I did good. But, if he knew about wolves and about my curse, then….well….then I honestly don't know what to think. I did a little ballet move, and then happily froze, looking innocent and grumpy like any typical teenager. A few more inches, awkward shuffles, pauses, I reached the door and was happy to see that the door was still unlocked. And without further ado I pushed my way to freedom, and sprinted out. IF I was anything I'm a sprinter, I hated running from my problems but I sure as hell wasn't about to stay with those….people.

Not when one is all but a convicted biter, the Argents were literal killers and I had no idea what Deaton was. Maybe a conspirator, maybe he believes that he's a good guy, but I know that my dad is a good guy, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let him believe that I was abducted for longer than I had to. I heard the curses of the men behind me and tried to pick up speed, knowing these streets better than any veteran bus driver, heck even dad needed my help once in a while…or he did. Then I hit a patch of something, hard to say what, did I mention that it had to be nearing the crack of dawn? My arms pin wheeled around – probably in a more comical fashion than any comic could hope to capture, and I was able to slide to a stop seconds away from crashing into a historic street light. One of many that haven't worked in years, but the historical society raised a hissy fit when the city people suggested that they be replaced by 'gasp working lights! Because somehow they gave the town more respectability or credibility or something….I wished that they would at least stick a few powerful glow sticks in the damn things.

I swung around and glanced behind to see where the would be do-gooder captures were, and when my hand went to touch the pole, instead it touched cloth. And not just cloth, flesh. I back pedaled quickly and squinted in the light, looking down at my feet, to my hand then to the person who was under the clothing. Or should I reiterate and say body. From the looks of it, her heart was pulled from her chest, her heart…my eyes slowly slid to the blood that I slid on down…but didn't see anything. I didn't understand, what could have taken out a person's heart? What type of…..oh…..yea…..Golem. I smelled him before I heard him, and he looked a little better, less like a used squeaky toy, more like chewed meat, but it was healing….

His eyes, beady and black, reminding me of fish, stared at me for a moment. His large hands were literally dripping, I could hear the blood softly splatter against the pavement, that sound used to be calming, associated with rain and peace. Now, it was filled with horror. He grinned, showing his jagged teeth.

"Treasure," He grunted, and dropped something, I didn't dare look.

I backed up, and for a second wished I hadn't run away. But I had, so there was no reason for wishes, I needed something to fight with. I gaged when I smelled the blood, I've never been good with blood. It wasn't the fact that it was blood, that wasn't what made me squeamish, it was the fact that it needed to be inside, and if it wasn't then something was wrong. My blood didn't bother me, I could give blood, I could be bleeding and not care, good thing or I'd be screwed once a month, but other people's blood…something inside of me… cringed.

I ended up stumbling over something behind me, but I was barely able to keep on my feet, thankfully. I looked down, and saw another body, but this one….oh god. My eyes went to what he had dropped, and I could barely make out the outline of hair in a pony-tail, the bastard. Tears stung my eyes. I fought to keep them back, crying would do me no good….wait….what did Deaton say about my tears? If my tears didn't kill my mother, if my tears don't kill, but if something kills those who make me cry….I reached and grabbed the closest branch, thankful that it was thicker than a shoestring, but it wouldn't do much damage, unless I was going to have a clear shot to his eye and then to his brain. And then I let loose a scream, something I hoped sounded fierce, but more than likely sounded like a hysterical girl than anything. And with the scream, with the stick held high over my head, tears streamed down my face.

_**SO?! Hope you guys like and like so much you review! Stay warm and those on the west coast I'm praying you get rain! Until next time, Audie! **_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Alrighty, if you guys love me, PLEASE review. I need feedback, it keeps the creative juices going and makes me a very happy writer. I love all the favorites, and follows, but feedback is what fuels the thinking tank…if not the wait for chapters is going to get longer….not my fault, I'm running on empty! And feel free to ask for a fairtale and I'll do my best to work it into the story! **_

_**And BooHooMtDew: Hope this was worth the wait!**_

_**Enjoy and please review! **_

I ran for the Golem, branch over my head, really no more than a stick, with tears streaming down my face and blood covering my hand and beloved shoes. The Golem smiled and blood dripped from his chin, he crouched, reminding me of a father readying himself for a hug. But I doubt either one was expecting a hug. As I was within….six feet of him, hard to judge, an arrow seemed to have sprouted from the creatures right boob. Then a few more, he back pedaled and roared, his eyes looked past me, while I had to keep moving. Momentum, I couldn't exactly stop myself, wet shoes and the whole – a Stiles in motion tends to stay in motion - you know, physics. I was able to put my limited knowledge of lacrosse to use though, and dodged the beast, if only by a hair and spun around, gagging on his smell.

What I can honestly say is that I didn't expect four things, one; for him to be able to regain his footing so quickly and have long nails, so either his nails grow really fast or they are extendable like Wolverine's or this was a different Golem, two; deep cuts across the back really hurt, like far more than any movie lets on. Don't let the actors fool you, adrenaline is good and all but OH MY GOD OWW. Three; I knew the head, which means I know the girl, which probably means I know the other body, because the girl-head is attached to the hip with her best friend. And four; they were my cousins. Cousins that were supposed to live someplace far away, like Virginia or Wisconsin. And with that, I'm ashamed to say that I froze.

But freezing seemed to have a positive outcome, I wasn't a moving target, but it also meant that when arrows suddenly decided to sprout up with a passion that would rival even the peskiest and persistent pimples. I'm going into shock, ignore my bad puns. The Golem seemed to blame me for its pain, because it lurched towards me and swung. His arm smashed into me, harder than any lacrosse player. My reaction would have been the perfect action film scene, it felt like it was in slow motion, even though I know for a fact this only took a few seconds. His arm crashed into my side, then it felt as if it went through me, I felt my ribs crack, my neck whipped around causing it to crack twice, and I swear I could feel my internal organs bruise. I also decided to take flight, but being a wingless Stiles, I ended up just a few feet away. In a nice little puddle of muck and guck, add road rash to my now extensive list of injuries and I let myself float away.

What happened next was sorta surreal, then again, nothing seems real at this point. With unfocused eyes I watched a van scream to a halt behind the Golem, and out popped five fuzzy figures. Say that five times fast. Ok, they shouldn't be fuzzy, but its dark, I'm concessioned, and barely awake, sorry if my visuals aren't stellar. Two seemed to be sporting a homemade flamethrower, you heard right, flamethrowers, they really do exist people and not just in old army movies. Then two more started to pepper the creature with bullets, with a gusto that could have rivaled the Avengers going for Loki, or maybe the Doctor running after Rose…there was one fuzzy person I was forgetting.

Said fuzzy person came closer to me, easily stepping over my departed and dismembered family members, and he crouched near me. But he seemed to know better than to get any closer, because I might bite. But in reality, I'd more than likely pass out and bite him when I woke up. That seemed to be a real possibility right now. Anyway, I forced my scattering thoughts to focus on what err who was in front of me. Wow, he had a big nose, like it dominated his face, poor guy. But his eyes were pretty, what I could see, and his hair seemed to be thinning.

"You ok?" He asked, hands on thighs, eyes evaluating me.

If I opened my mouth, I would be screaming again, so I just looked at him dumbly. He seemed to take my mute-ness in stride.

"We need to go," He said, and motioned for me to stand.

Oh hell no, not another Stiles snatcher. I totally blame global warming, why else would I be so irresistible all of a sudden? The man sighed heavily, and turned to survey the progress of his fellow goons or worker bees or companions, whatever you call them. I let my blurry vision slowly turn to them as well, and if I hadn't forced my mouth shut due to the possibility of incessantly screaming, I would have let it drop in shock. They had the Golem down, and not just down….burning…God I hoped he was dead and not dying. Burning to death has always been a big fear of mine, blame the witch trials.

My new companion of the moment nodded his approval, and turned his attention back to me, "Child, we need to go. People will have heard the commotion, and I don't think you're in any position to explain anything to anyone."

I nodded, kinda, whiplashed neck and all didn't allow me to really move my head. Very slowly I got moving, left leg, right, right hand on thigh, left….nope, not going to use my left. I attempted to stand, ignoring my inner smarter self and that was when I remembered, broken ribs. I sat down, hard, in the muck. Gasping, note to self, broken ribs don't like to be jostled around, and broken arms refuse to bear weight. Here I thought my vision was bad before, little black blinking lights kinda like goth fireflies blipped around my vision.

"Damn," the guy muttered before moving into my personal bubble.

If I wasn't about to pass out, or throw up, possibly a combination, I would have yelled something about stranger danger. When he scooped me up, it reminded me of the bridal style and a scoop on the front of a tractor. Romantic.

"This is gonna hurt," He warned, then stood.

I honestly don't know what sounds I made or if I just passed out for a few moments. But when I came to I saw a terrible sight, my rescuers gathered my cousins'…all pieces then threw them into the fire with the now definitely dead Golem.

I know I let out a scream, and painfully bucked in the man's grip, trying to escape. I didn't know what I was going to do, if I was going to try to pull their singed bodies out, but I know for a fact that neither one would ever want to be cremated. They had a phobia of fire, even gas stoves and tiny candles nearly sent them into hyperventilated states. They wouldn't want to be cremated, it wasn't right. And I screamed as much, but screaming with broken ribs and wiggling like a worm trying to escape a little kid's grabby hands really takes it out of a person. Maybe two strangled screams later, and my last scream tapered off in a very pitiful sound. As my vision dimmed, and sound dulled, I let my head lull into the crook of his arm, and I was able to get a final glance at my cousin's cremation. I was gently placed into the van, handed off to another pair of waiting arms, and that was all she wrote. Darkness claimed me, and I honestly hoped I wouldn't wake up. Life was too much of a Grimm Tale, and I wanted no part of it.

Unfortunately life has a funny way of being an ongoing thing, I knew I was alive when I slowly started to wake. A stiffness in my left arm told me I had received medical attention, the stiffness was an unmistakable sensation of a cast or a very sturdy brace. Breathing hurt, to put simply, so my ribs were wrapped, but overall I was pleasantly numb. Meaning I had good meds in me, unfortunately I've had quite a few experiences with good meds, what can I say, I was an adventurous kid. Thankfully I did dumb stuff with Scott in public, or CPS would have been at my door long ago. Only bad thing with the good stuff, you're numb, limbs, the ones that weren't injured felt heavy, almost as if they were made of plastic, or belonged to someone else, or maybe this is how a puppet felt, the one with the long nose and the cricket…did I mention they made you sleepy?

My nose itched, it was a hard core itch, one that refused to be placated with a normal wrinkle of the nose or rub against a pillow. No, this caused for the actual movement of an arm and it needed skin on skin action. Untangling an arm from a blanket, with closed eyes, I went to rub my nose, but my muscles gave out seconds from the scratch, and I was smashed in the head with something hard. Nerve pain shot down my arm, and my nose screamed that it wanted a scratch not to be smashed. I had forgotten about the cast…damn, I hope I didn't just bruise my nose with my broken hand. That would be one for the lamest things Stiles has done list, yes, I keep a list. But before I was able to do a mental check list on what was on the list, sleep tugged at me. And I, unlike a cat on a leash, was willing to follow it.

Third time is the charm, or maybe I really was living in a Grimm tale, because my life certainly wasn't a fairy tale, at least not the Disney version. Because I woke, and was awake this time, not in a medicated stupor, and not bashing myself in the head with my own broken hand. Man, my nose twinged at the thought. For, possibly the first time, I opened my eyes and saw that I had absolutely no idea where I was, and two maybe three…ok, before the lacrosse game, that would have made me freak out and do a creeper check before running out screaming rape. Now, unfortunately this was becoming the norm, at least I was on a bed, and not hanging upside down looking at the mutilated ass of a creature that shouldn't exist. Or be stuck in a casket made from vines. All in all, this was the best way I've woken up in a while.

When I finally had the courage to move, because I really didn't want anything to suddenly decide to cause me more pain, and I really didn't want this to be a terribly wonderful dream and end up somewhere else, unless that place was my bed and I had dreamt all of this. I squeezed my eyes tight and thought of home, of my bed with a horde of stuffed animals waiting eagerly for my return, and my Dr. Who sonic screw driver and TARDIS lamp on my bedside. I peeked through my lashes and saw my rescuer eyeing me from the doorway.

My room consisted of a nice full sized bed, a worn maroon rug covering hardwood floors and a door, literally there was nothing else. Even though the room was of good size, I had a strange feeling that this room had a lot more things but they, my knights in camo, had moved the furniture out scared that I would use them as a weapon against them or maybe try to barricade myself in the room. There wasn't an adjoining bathroom, no way was I going to do that.

"Good to see your eyes," he said in the way of an awkward greeting.

I just made a face and a non-committal noise, I mean, what the heck do you say in situations like this? Hey, thanks for saving me from a fleshy monster, by the way, LET ME GO, please with sprinkles on top, I'll send you a thank you fruit basket. I doubted that would fly with this crowd, unfortunately.

"You had me and the guys worried, we thought we came too late."

"Who are you?" I whispered, then reached behind me, wincing, I kept forgetting about those damn ribs, grabbed a pillow and put it in my lap, a small shield against him.

He scratched the back of his head wearily, and seemed almost sheepish. "Well…we're your creations."

"Excuse me," I said in a flat tone, and resisted the temptation to put a finger in an ear and wiggle it about, I couldn't have heard that right.

"Yea, you created us a long time ago,"

"U-" I almost got the S out when the four other guys appeared.

They varied drastically in height, ethnicity, weight, build, everything. The only thing they had in common, other than their love of camo and stereotypical testosterone filled stances, was small marking on their necks. The leader, or so I'm guessing that the chatty one was their leader, aren't they always? Noticed me looking at, more like squinting at, the marks and he pulled the collar of his tight black shirt down to let me have a better look. His marking was of a vine, wrapped around a female head, her face was covered by two hands, but she looked to be weeping. The other guys took that as their queue to do the same, and I saw that their marks were made of parts. Two legs, a torso, shoulders and neck with arms reaching up, and feet covered in vines, put them together and what do you get? A girl crying, covered head to toes in vines, my literal worst nightmare.

"Who are you?" I repeated myself, sounding stronger, though inside I was quivering, and I grasped the pillow tighter.

"Look at us, please," one said, he was short, but not un-dateable, his amber eyes seemed to have a yellow outline, or was it gold?

I did as he asked, I stared at them to the point it made them squirm, if I had X-ray vision, or heat vision, they would have been in trouble, but that was only for day-dreams. Day dreams….holy, my eyes grew wide and I looked at the men, really looked at them.

"You're supposed to be a family of leprechauns!" I yelped, right hand raised and pointed towards them in an accusatory fashion.

"Leprechauns wouldn't survive well in a time of technology, where the power of myths doesn't have any roots," another responded.

And that actually made sense to me, in a weird sort of way.

I attempted to remember their names, and for the love of me I hoped I hadn't given them weird smurf-like names. But I couldn't have been older than eight when I imagined this odd family. I was playing outside, under a rare dogwood tree, the neighbors were watching me, a sweet old couple while dad worked. It was summer, Scott was grounded, so I didn't have anyone to play with, and my neighbors were too old to really do anything other than watch me. But that was ok, as long as I had my imagination and was far enough away from anyone who could overhear me, even at a young age I was paranoid.

I imagined a small army like family of leprechauns, they were originally going to be elves, but then I figured if they were elves it would be harder to carry them around with me, so why not go with the smallest of the bunch that still had gumption. Faries were mean and too girly, and never trust a pixie. So leprechauns it was. I wanted them to be like the people I knew, but only with the physical features, I wanted them to have original personalities. I had carefully constructed my little leprechaun army of five with the meticulous detail a surgeon would use. And for years afterwards I imagined the leprechauns wreaking havoc on those who bullied me for my short hair, and called me Twitchy because I couldn't sit still.

"How, I mean, this is amazing, but how are you real?" I asked, looking at them with wide eyes.

"What you call a curse, has far more power than you originally thought. When you were in a dyer circumstance, it woke us. " Began one very tall once imaginary leprechaun.

"You see, when you created us, you really did create us. When a lonely child uses such care and concentration to their imaginary companions, they, we, are no longer imaginary. Even when the child no longer believes in us, or needs us, we are always near." Added another with fiery red hair, I'm pretty sure Lydia was the person behind that hair trait.

"But, what put us apart from the other creations was that we were real, we could manipulate objects that were not yours, normally only creations had the ability to manipulate spaces and materials that were of their creators. But we could touch anything, and move it." Said the Asian one with Scott's doe eyes.

"When a child no longer requires imaginary companionship, we usually go into a type of hibernation, only waking when that child either really needs us, or has children of their own, and we will be passed down in a sense." This one had my mother's height and soft voice.

"And recently you needed us again, but with the realms colliding, we were able to cross, thinking that this would be the only way we could truly help you." Spoke their leader, now that they all had a turn.

"Huh…" was all I could say to that, I mean, what do you say to that? "Where's the bathroom?"

Hobbling painfully to the bathroom, closing the door after promising that I wouldn't lock it, nor attempt to drown myself in any body of water, I sat on the toilet seat cover and let out a long breath of air. I had a few options now; demand to be taken back home, and try to explain everything to dad and then avoid Derek and Deaton and all of those people. Or, I could go back to Deaton and ask for forgiveness for running away and then be squirreled away from society for who knows how long with the creature that bit my best friend. And option three; I could stay with my imaginary creatures turned real, try to find more about this curse, and who sent a Golem after me, and then maybe, live happily ever after, unless this really was a Grimm Tale, and just hope to survive then.

Hysterical laughter bubbled to the surface, who would have thunk? I mean, a little while ago the only thing I had to worry about was buying pads and studying for tests, then came lacrosse. And with it came bruises but companionship, for most of the teammates saw that I was a good player and I worked hard to stay on first string, even though I was only there for week. And my main worry was dad's eating habits, but now, now I had a world full of potential before me, if I didn't get kidnapped and taken to yet another place and possibly eaten alive. But first, I had to choose; stay or go, to be possibly snatched by even crazier creatures or to be hidden away like Rapunzel with mr. Bitey. Is it too late to go back to high school?

_**Sooo? Surprised? Hope so, this chapter has surprised me, and don't judge Stiles on whacking herself with her casted arm…it happens…that's all I will say on the matter. Until next time – Adieu! **_


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